


By Bridge and Ford, by Park and Pale

by Slenderlock



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eggsy goes on a road trip, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Fix-It, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Merlin is at his wit's end, Paris - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderlock/pseuds/Slenderlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feed from Harry's glasses suddenly jolts, the shot of the church sweeping from left to right. And this time, it’s accompanied with a faint groan. It’s his voice, it’s Harry’s <i>fucking</i> voice. Stuffy, proper Harry who had yanked the tablet out of Merlin’s hands without a second thought, who’d brought in that brat of a kid who’d <i>almost</i> made it, Harry who’d thought three times over anything he ever said, who’d just slaughtered an entire church, who’d just been <i>shot in the god damn face-</i></p><p>Is <i>alive.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <b>EDIT: Now with a second chapter!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _But all my heart is drawn above,_  
>  _My knees are bow’d in crypt and shrine;_  
>  _I never felt the kiss of love,_  
>  _Not maiden’s hand in mine_  
>  -Alfred Lord Tennyson, _“Sir Galahad”_

o0O0o

_“Look at you, you’re adorable.” Harry looks at Eggsy over his wine glass. “All I have to do is say your name and you start blushing.”_

_Eggsy looks down at his plate. Around them, the restaurant mumbles with the steady sound of chatter. The_ clink clink _of champagne glasses, the_ rumble rumble _of the rolled trays of food, the faint sparkling tone of violins from the next room. Eggsy’s never been to a place this nice before, and he’s still trying to figure out if he likes it or not._

_“Come on, Eggsy, you know it’s true,” Harry says, amusement coloring his words. Eggsy doesn’t look up. A triumphant smirk works its way onto Harry’s face. “Ah, there it is.”_

_“Shut up.”_

o0O0o

Merlin can’t bring himself to shut off Harry’s feed.

Something about that seems so _final,_ and he just can’t. So he leaves it up as he sifts through what he know will be the necessary paperwork, reads through the transcription of Valentine’s good-as-confession, and tries to think up some sort of plan to keep the earth from downright _fucking_ itself over.

He’s halfway through that last part when something catches the corner of his eye. He ignores it and turns back to the problem at hand- _satellite, Valentine’s got satellites, what the hell are they going to do about-_

It happens again.

The small, shuddering movement that draws his attention, it comes again.

Merlin frowns and turns his attentions back to the screens- one running a de-encryption code, one on standby, and one still trained on Harry’s feed- _Harry’s dead feed-_

And again.

Harry’s feed quivers, the shot of the church sweeping from left to right. And this time, it’s accompanied with a faint groan. It’s his voice, it’s Harry’s _fucking_ voice. Stuffy, proper Harry who had yanked the tablet out of Merlin’s hands without a second thought, who’d brought in that brat of a kid who’d _almost_ made it, Harry who’d thought three times over anything he ever said, who’d just slaughtered an entire church, who’d just been _shot in the god damn face-_

Is _alive._

Merlin’s desk shakes with the force of his chair slamming forward. He yanks the microphone from the desk, heart thundering.

“Galahad?” he shouts, and the feed stills. Again, that soft, barely-there groan meets him. “Galahad, fuckin’ _Christ-”_

Half the feed’s gone; the glasses are broken, after all, but Merlin can see enough. Harry rolls over either from his back to his front or the other way around, and starts crawling towards the church.

“We’re going to get you out of there, I _swear,”_ Merlin shouts, using the monitor that’s on standby to bring up a list of agents- any and all agents- that are available and he trusts to remain discreet. “Just hold tight, Galahad.”

Harry’s on his feet now, though his walk is considerably wobbly. He pushes through into the church- where the mass of bodies is still waiting for him- and begins to inspect them all.

And it occurs to Merlin for the first time that Harry’s just been shot in the _head._ Fuck, what if he doesn’t even remember-

“Galahad,” he says sharply. “Get out of there.”

Harry ignores him, continuing to bend over every other body, until he reaches the corpse of a small, portly looking woman. He pries the gun out of her hands and appears to check it, then tucks it under his suit jacket.

And turns to the door.

“Just- just hang on,” Merlin says, helplessly, as Harry staggers out the doors and into the street. “We’ll get you out of there in a minute, I just need to find-”

The security footage of the Round Table is anything but reassuring, and that Eggsy boy _better_ have a damn good reason for poisoning Arthur and- and shit, he’s pulling a chip out of Arthur’s neck. “Bollocks.”

“What?” Harry demands, sharply, voice as crisp as Merlin remembers, and Merlin nearly cries.

“We’re _fucked.”_

o0O0o

They send Roxy to get him.

He’s wandered as far away from the church as he can, out of range of those damn chips, and in the confusion of V-day, Valentine’s not going to pay attention to anything else but his plan. Besides, Roxy’s already done her part; she’s eager to stay on the ground. Merlin sends her a lift.

When she finds him, he’s curled up underneath a park bench. The park’s abandoned; they have no trouble landing the jet.

“Well,” he says, crawling to his knees and using the bench to stagger to his feet. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Eye,” Roxy- _Lancelot-_ corrects him.

“Yes, well.” His arms are shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself upright. She suspects it’s nothing but adrenaline that’s gotten him this far.

“Come on,” Lancelot says, helping him stand. “We’ve got to get you back to HQ.”

“Has anyone told Arthur about-”

“Arthur’s dead.”

 _“What-_ ah, fuck,” Harry’s legs lose half their use as he winces in pain, the exclamation clearly having taken its toll. A hand flies to his face but stops just short of the bloody mess on his left side, knowing that if he even brushes it, the pain’s going to explode exponentially.

“Just try to stay calm, sir, you’ve lost a considerable amount of blood and you’ve likely got some sort of concussion-”

“I’m fine, don’t patronize- _augh-_ ”

She hefts him into the jet without another word. and snaps for the autopilot to take them back to HQ. He stays as still as he can the entire flight- the _five fucking hour flight-_ as Lancelot does her best to patch him up. His mind isn’t racing, he’s a Kingsman, he can be calm under pressure. But still, the loss of Arthur sends questions running, and Lancelot clearly doesn’t want to discuss the issue any more than necessary.

Well, one thing’s for sure.

This suit is absolutely _ruined._

o0O0o

He’s given a feed of Eggsy’s glasses- which, Merlin tells him, he’s _lucky_ to have- as he’s forced to do nothing but wait quietly in one of their standard hospital beds, bandages wrapping up the left side of his face. He knows it’s better than an open wound, but somehow feels worse. He’ll have to wear an eyepatch from now on- with a camera feed of its own, obviously.

HQ is free of those damnable chips, thank Christ, so when Valentine activates them, he doesn’t have to relive that uncontrollable urge to _kill._ All he can do is watch Eggsy through his glasses feed and through the security camera footage Merlin’s streaming to him.

And he doesn’t even try to hold back the jolt of pride he feels as he watches Eggsy absolutely _slay_ everyone who steps in his path, watches as Eggsy god damn _dances_ with Gazelle, clicks his heels in midair and-

And Merlin takes the liberty of rewinding that moment and playing it back at half speed.

Valentine’s face stares up at him in the end, and the feed starts shaking. Something smudges the lenses and Harry realizes that Eggsy is crying. Valentine’s head slumps to the side. Eggsy leaves. The feed cuts out. The camera footage goes black.

And Harry is alone again.

o0O0o

Eggsy’s just saved the god damn world, he thinks he deserves a break.

But no, Kingsmen never sleep. There’s always something to be done, some billionare to be stopped, some secret plan to be foiled. And somehow, Merlin keeps sending _Eggsy_ on every single one of these damn things. He gets emails from Roxy- Lancelot, he reminds himself- occasionally, asking him how he’s doing and letting him know how she’s doing, and _shit,_ she sends fucking pictures, _selfies,_ of her standing on top of mountains and in the middle of forests and why the hell does _she_ get a break when he’s stuck here-

Eggsy sees the grenade fly towards him and rolls to the side, careens out the window, and lands on the ground just as it explodes, sending a wave of heat over him. The suit’s starting to stick to his skin, the heat’s making him sweat like nothing else. He feels dirt in his shoes, under his socks, against his wrists, between his fingers. Feels the skin on the back of his neck burn red as another wave of heat from the grenade grazes him.

He’d almost gotten to the safe in the bunker before he’d been spotted. Two bullets to his left arm later, he’s lying face-down on the pavement.

Fucking terrorists.

 _“Get out of there, Galahad,”_ Merlin snaps in his ear.

They’ve seen Eggsy, now, so he’s got to lose them. He gets to his feet and tears around the corner of the place, reminding himself of the objective- _secure as much information as possible and get the hell out of there, if something goes wrong, you_ bail, _do you understand-_ and scales up to the second floor, crawls through the window.

_“Galahad, damn it- we’ve got enough, we don’t need more, just- get out-”_

There’s no one there, he sees, letting out an easy breath. The sound of shouting is audible from even two floors up; they hadn’t seen him come in.

A faint _thwip_ sounds behind his right ear and he has a second to think _oh, fuck,_ before his legs give out from under him and he slumps to the ground. The room swirls out of focus and he tries as hard as he can to move his mouth, to say anything, to reach for the pistol beneath his jacket-

He blinks and the room turns to the side. He can vaguely feel a set of hands grabbing his arms- as they brush over his gunshot wounds, he hears himself let out an anguished cry- and they recoil. He falls to the floor, head hitting it with a dull _smack._ The hands come back, this time gripping him around the waist. He hears the _thudthudthud_ of boots approaching and the _clickclack_ of a gun being cocked near his head. The arm around his waist tightens and he thinks this is it, this is how he’s going to die.

And Christ, Harry would have been so disappointed.

He closes his eyes to the sound of Harry’s voice, low and quiet in his ear, and smiles.

o0O0o

“-your fault for letting him go alone.”

“He wasn’t alone, else he wouldn’t be here, eh?”

“That’s not the _point,_ Merlin, you know what I mean-”

“You were the one that wanted him out of the way, it’s not my fault he got careless-”

“Of course it is, you were supposed to be responsible for him-”

“Like hell I was, he’s old enough to-”

_“He’s still a child-”_

“If you think he needs looking after, why don’t you-”

The voices are muffled through the door, but loud enough to wake Eggsy. He mumbles softly into the pillow, blinks sluggishly. Tries to think.

The grenade. The dart. The hands.

He sits up, gasping. The bullet wounds on his arm are covered in white bandages, and he can recognize Roxy’s handiwork when he sees it. He looks around the room- the room that isn’t his at all, isn’t one of the medical rooms back at HQ. He squints, trying to get his bearings.

The voices behind the door are silent again. He coughs, trying to sound casual.

Someone whispers something, but it’s too quiet for Eggsy to hear. The door opens and Merlin steps in, shutting it behind him quickly.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says dryly.

“Wh’ happened?” Eggsy slurs.

“Sniper in the next building over caught you, hit you with a paralyzing dart. You’ve been out for, oh, a week?”

Eggsy chokes on his own spit. Merlin cracks a grin.

“Kidding, of course. You’ve been unconscious for roughly twelve hours.”

“How?” Eggsy asks, because his tongue still isn’t working quite right and he doesn’t feel up to more than a few words at a time. Merlin doesn’t seem surprised by this, so he doesn’t worry.

“You’ve been sloppy lately, Galahad,” Merlin says bluntly. Eggsy still can’t help but wince at the title. “I’ve had someone tailing you for your last few assignments.”

Eggsy flushes red at that. How the hell hasn’t he noticed?

“So,” Merlin says, taking no notice. “I’m taking you off the field.”

“You’re-” Eggsy sits up again, panic suddenly flooding him. His tongue un-sticks from the roof of his mouth. “I’ll do better, I promise, don’t fire me, please-”

It’s the only thing he has left of Harry now, his job. This suit, this look. This place. Without it, he’s just Eggsy. Without it, he might as well never have met Harry in the first place.

“We’re not letting you go,” Merlin says patiently, shaking his head. “You just need… time.”

“I don’t _need_ anything.”

“It doesn’t make you any weaker to admit you do,” Merlin says, taking his hand. Eggsy yanks it away.

“I’m _fine.”_

“Galahad-”

“I said I’m fine. Next job you’ve got, I want in on it, and you get your stupid tail off my back, got it?”

Eggsy’s earned himself some respect from Merlin- they’ve certainly come a long way from _whisper that in my ear-_ but respect or not, Merlin still outranks him. Merlin stands, adjusts his suit jacket.

“You’ll be doing as I say, even if I have to tranq you myself.”

“Merlin, please-”

“Not up for discussion.” Merlin’s eyes narrow, but there’s something behind them, something that isn’t anger. It’s pity, Eggsy realizes.

“Get out,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head down so Merlin can’t see the tears he’s fighting so hard to keep in.

“Galahad-”

“Just go.”

“Eggsy-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

His voice cracks horribly on the last word. Merlin just stands there for a moment, before turning and heading for the door. Eggsy hears it creak open, and then-

“I’m sorry, Eggsy.”

The door closes and Eggsy is alone again.

o0O0o

They send him to fucking _Paris_ of all places. He wakes up in a tiny hotel to the smell of pastries and laundry detergent. There’s a note on the table by the window that says _Told you. –M_

He tosses it into the trash.

There’s a bag packed with clothes- not the bulletproof kind- and cash, and Eggsy thinks to himself that if Merlin’s trusted him with this much dough, the least he can do is spend it all, a last ditch-attempt at a “fuck you” gesture he can manage.

He gives at least five euros to every street beggar he passes by, and always tips whenever he pays for anything. He stops by in the nearest tourist shop and buys the most outlandish _I love Paris_ merchandise he can get- no doubt Merlin’s got tracers on every piece of clothing he’s been given.

He fits himself head to toe with the garish stuff, buys a bag that has the words _I love Paris_ repeating over and over until his head spins if he looks at it for too long, and stows away the cash.

It’ll take a day or do to get to Madrid, so he stocks up on snacks, gets a book in the dingy little store by his hotel. He buys a ticket for a train to Barcelona and heads into the compartment, shuts the door so no one else will come in.

He wonders how angry Merlin’s gonna be, but quickly decides he doesn’t care.

If he’s forced to go on this stupid retreat, it’ll be on his terms. And it won’t be for long- they’ll need him. They needed him before and they’ll need him again.

He pulls out the shiny copy of _Avalon High_ , which he’d bought strictly for the cover- shining gold and purple and a script _H_ adorned with a crown- and skims over the first page. It doesn’t look that bad.

Someone knocks on the compartment door.

“Taken,” Eggsy says, not taking his eyes off the book. Merlin’s got eyes and ears everywhere, and Eggsy knows he’s being too careful but he doesn’t care.

The stranger evidently doesn’t speak English, because the compartment door slides open. Eggsy lifts the book another few inches up in front of his face.

 _“Taken,”_ he says again, “that means get out.”

The stranger sits down. Eggsy looks down and catches a glimpse of the oxfords before the stranger crosses his legs. Christ. He’s gonna have to sit next to this prick for the next twenty hours, isn’t he? Fucking perfect.

At least it’s better than having Merlin constantly breathing down the back of his neck. And hey, maybe having someone else in the compartment will make him look less suspicious, should Merlin actually care enough to send someone looking for him.

Besides, the stranger’s quiet. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Eggsy gets through twenty three chapters before the stranger so much as moves. He watches under the bottom rim of the book as the guy uncrosses his legs and scoots closer to the window, moving his umbrella out of the way- _shit._ Eggsy _knows_ the make of that umbrella. Damn it, of course he’s still being tailed.

Keeping his eyes trained on the floor of the compartment, Eggsy stashes the book back into his bag and, pretending to fumble, stuffs the cash up his _I Love Paris_ jacket sleeves. He stands, stretches his arms over his head, and turns to the door.

The stranger stands too.

“Gotta use the loo,” Eggsy mumbles, and the stranger takes two steps forward- and Eggsy gets the barest glimpse of an eyepatch, and-

And Eggsy scrambles out of the compartment and into the hallway, races down past compartment after compartment, until he spies it- the red handle. As he passes by, he yanks down on the emergency brake. The train shudders and jolts, and Eggsy tears away into the bridge between two cars.

He forces the door open, kicks it and throws his weight against the lever, and leaps out, tucking his arms in and rolling over the grass. It scratches against his face, hands, ankles, and he fights to keep his body stiff, letting himself roll and roll and roll- until he comes to a stop behind a set of bushes.

He’s bruised all over, he knows, but there’s still cash in his sleeves. He gets to his feet and races under the nearby bridge, down the street, and towards Montpellier.

He sleeps behind a dumpster that night, and dreams of his little sister and his mother and _Harry-_

He pulls the _I Love Paris_ jacket a little tighter around himself, knowing what Harry would say if he saw Eggsy here. Knowing what Harry would think- not just about the dumpster, but about everything. About the choices he’d made, the assignments he’d cocked up. About how he talked to Merlin. And yeah, maybe about how he’s sleeping behind a dumpster.

He ties the hoodie strings of the jacket tight and closes his eyes, shutting all thoughts of Harry out of his mind.

o0O0o

The _I Love Paris_ clothes need to go, he decides when he wakes. Maybe he could get a different set, in different colors? Surely Merlin wouldn’t think him _that_ stupid to go parading around in nearly the same stuff, right?

He wanders around Montpellier for the better part of the day, buys a new set of clothes, trashes the old ones. He even catches a movie at the _Diagonal_ theater to pass the time. He’d ditched his bag, which means no more book- which is a shame, because he’s really curious to know how _Avalon High_ ends.

He picks up another copy at the nearest bookstore but is disappointed to find that it’s just a French translation.

Eggsy spends the last of his money on a train ticket to Paris, because it’s the last place Merlin’s gonna expect him.

And he’s right. The train ride is uneventful, surprisingly. He spends most of it reading through the French copy of _Avalon High_ and trying to pick out the points he remembers, then reading the last few chapters and imagining what it might mean.

It’s dark when he reaches Paris again. The Eiffel tower isn’t lit quite yet, but he knows it will be.  He trudges back to the old hotel he woke up in and gives his room number. The receptionist raises an eyebrow but hands him the key, and he stumbles up the stairs and to-

The hotel room door is wide open. Eggsy bends down and, yes, the carpet’s got footprints. Flecks of dirt, too. Someone’s been here. He tiptoes into the room, and he might not have any weapons handy, he can still take out almost anyone that tries to get in his way. He stops just short of the bedroom. Barely, he can hear the sounds of someone breathing- and as he crouches down he can just make out the set of oxfords and the tip of that _stupid_ umbrella.

“All right, you,” he calls into the room. “You’ve got thir’y seconds before I bust in here, an’ I want you gone, all right? An’ tell Merlin to stuff that umbrella up his arse or I’ll do it for ‘im. An’ if I see you again  because you don’t got the balls to do it, then I’ll _make sure_ you don’t got the balls to do it, _ever again._ You got that?”

No answer.

“I’m counting.”

Eggsy ducks outside the room and starts counting slowly in his head. He hears the faint sound of a window opening. Then a _thud_ of something heavy hitting metal. He tiptoes into the room and, sure enough, the window’s open, curtains blowing lightly. He peers out and sees a set of dumpsters, and there’s a flash of something running behind the wall, but by the time Eggsy’s eyes catch up to it, the stranger’s gone.

Eggsy curses.

The hotel room is just as he’d left it- only there’s another stack of cash on the countertop. His bag, he realizes, is sitting on the bed, just as he’d left it on the train. He checks, and yes, there’s the copy of _Avalon High._

It’s even fucking bookmarked.

o0O0o

That night, Eggsy spends half the cash on a ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

He even waits in line, like a _normal person._ He wonders if his mum would like it here. Or his sister. Maybe he should take them, sometime.

As the city gets smaller and smaller and the elevator car shudders every few seconds, he sighs to himself. He’s not supposed to be here, he knows. It’s like that thrill he used to get skipping class back in grade school, where everything was mandatory and recorded and he was _supposed to be_ somewhere every damn second of the day, so every pinch of freedom he managed to find was like fucking ambrosia. This is like that.

Only it doesn’t taste like ambrosia.

It tastes like sour milk and pennies.

The elevator car stops at the top and he follows the crowd out, wanders to the edge and just stares.

It’s beautiful, he thinks. He wonders how many of the Kingsmen have even been here. He wonders if Harry had ever been here. Wonders if he’d ever have been here if it weren’t for Harry. Wonders exactly what would have happened to him if it weren’t for Harry.

Damn it.

He slumps on the bar, looking out helplessly at the city. The lights look like jewels in a box, all glittering side by side, competing for attention. And when he blinks, they all blur into one light, surrounded by the haze of darkness.

_Tap-tap._

The fucking umbrella.

Eggsy curls his fists around the bar.

“I’m too tired to fight,” he says quietly, eyes still looking over the city. “I just want to be left _alone.”_

 _Tap. Tap._ Getting closer. _Tap._

“Jesus, what fucking part of that don’t you understand?” Eggsy growls, eyes shut. “I don’t care whatever the hell you want, go fuck off, I don’t care-”

_Tap._

The umbrella’s right behind him now, he can damn near _feel_ it as it _taptaptap_ 's against the floor. Letting out a groan of frustration, Eggsy turns and faces the man, shouting, “JUST  _LEAVE ME THE FUCK_ _-”_

“Alone?” Harry Hart finishes for him, and smiles. “I believe you’ve been _alone_ for far too long.”

o0O0o

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo I saw Kingsman and then this happened  
> I might write more for this idek?? it might be another chapter, might just be another story, i have no idea  
> Title comes from [the poem at the beginning.](http://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/tennyson-sir-galahad)  
> I am 34850934% Hartwin trash pleASE [rec me](http://www.slenderlock.tumblr.com/ask)  
> As always, please leave a kudos if you liked and feel free to comment if you find any typos (or if you _really_ liked)  
>  Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV.

“And before you say anything, you should be thanking me for giving you access to his feed in the first place,” Merlin snaps, arms crossed. “You can barely even sit up, you’ll be lucky if you get to see him before-”

“No,” Harry says, quietly. Merlin blinks but falls silent, allowing him to speak. “He’ll do… better, if he thinks I’m gone. Motivation, all that.”

“Harry,” Merlin says, and Harry looks at him. Eggsy’s _Galahad,_ now, officially, so Harry’s out of a codename. Technically, he’s dead, after all. But he’d expected Merlin to at least address him as _Hart,_ anything but _Harry._

“Trust me,” he says, shaking his head. The left side of his face twinges in pain. “He needs this push.”

Merlin sighs.

“He’s your responsibility,” he says, tiredly. “I suppose I have no choice.”

And so Eggsy Unwin breaks into Valentine’s headquarters and throws a prosthetic leg through his chest believing Harry Hart to be dead.

o0O0o

“Tell him I would have been proud of him,” Harry says, replaying the footage over and over. Really, Eggsy’s remarkable with that umbrella. “And to watch his left guard when he shoots, that could be a problem.”

“You could always tell him yourself,” Merlin says, gently.

_“Merlin.”_

“He’s not faring well without you, I hope you know.” Merlin sinks into the dirty old chair beside Harry, tries to ignore the smell of mold permeating throughout this old safe-house. It hasn’t been used in years, which of course makes it all the better of a hiding spot for Harry to lay low until-

Well. It was looking more and more like _until_ was never going to happen.

“He’s fine. You’ve got him busy. And besides, it’s not the right time.”

“He’s exhausted. I’ve thought about putting him off for a while, maybe give him a break, you know.” Merlin shrugs. “Wonder what he’d do if I told him to stop working.”

“He’d run,” Harry murmurs, replaying the shot of Eggsy clicking his heels in midair and grazing Gazelle’s arm.

“He needs you,” Merlin says. Harry sighs.

“He’s fine. It’s-”

“Not the right time?” Merlin finishes for him. Harry gives him a _look._ “There’s never going to _be_ a ‘right time,’ there’s only going to be a moment where you realize there’s no time _left,”_ Merlin urges him. “So you’ve got to go out and _make_ a right time, because that boy needs you.” When Harry doesn’t so much as acknowledge him, Merlin thwacks his arm. “He’s getting sloppier, you know that? Nearly blew his cover, last time. He’s not good on the field.” At Harry’s blank look, he sighs. “I want you to keep an eye on him.”

“You do mean that in the most literal sense, I assume?” Harry taps his eyepatch. Merlin smiles dryly.

“I want you to follow him. Sooner or later he’s going to slip up and it’s going to cost him.”

“He’ll notice me,” Harry says, shrugging.

“He won’t. He’s not the same boy you trained, Harry. He’s not even the same boy who killed Valentine.”

“Merlin-”

 _“Follow him.”_ Merlin adjusts his glasses and turns to leave. “Keep him out of trouble.” And by that, Harry knows, he means _keep him alive._

And that is something Harry Hart is very good at doing.

o0O0o

Merlin’s right, Harry realizes, as he tails Eggsy on mission after mission. Eggsy’s getting careless.

It surprises him, really, because Eggsy’s got so much _potential._ He should know what he’s doing- hell, Harry’s willing to bet he knows exactly what he’s doing- and it’s just like before but it isn’t. Back on V-day, Harry remembers, Eggsy had been so careful. Because, of course, the weight of the world had rested on his shoulders. But now?

Now, Eggsy doesn’t seem to care at all.

Harry watches from across the street as Eggsy launches himself out of the building just as the grenade goes off, tears to the side, scales the wall, and leaps in. And Harry catches the tiny movements overhead of a sniper on the opposite roof and _shit-_

It takes him less than twenty seconds to climb in through the same window- it would have been fifteen if he hadn’t stopped to take out the sniper on the roof on the way.

He grabs Eggsy and _pulls,_ but recoils at the vicious cry Eggsy lets out. Eggsy falls back onto the floor and Harry tries to think of a new tactic. He heaves Eggsy up, taking care not to brush his arms too much. The boy’s shaking in his arms- from the trauma of the bullet wounds, surely- and Harry spares a moment to try to calm him. He runs his fingers through Eggsy’s hair- it’s neat, too neat- and murmurs low.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Eggsy’s glasses are on and the comms are on and Merlin’s going to hear this but Harry doesn’t care _._ “I’m so sorry.”

Eggsy trembles in his arms, then goes still, and for a horrible sickening second Harry is sure that he’s too late.

 _“He’s fine, just unconscious,”_ Merlin says in his ear, and color returns to the world. _“Get him out of there.”_

He carries Eggsy- who’s bleeding on several counts and far too out of his head to recognize him- out of the building and shoots everyone that gets in his way. They might just be guns for hire, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t care.

o0O0o

Harry corners Merlin outside Eggsy’s hospital room- it’s risky, but Merlin’s been avoiding him and this is the only place Harry knows he’ll go.

“This is your fault,” he lies. “For letting him go alone.”

Merlin doesn’t take the bait, sees right through him. “He wasn’t alone, else he wouldn’t be here, eh?”

“That’s not the _point,_ Merlin, you know what I mean-”

Merlin folds his arms. “You were the one that wanted him out of the way, it’s not my fault he got careless-”

“Of course it is, you were supposed to be responsible for him-”

“Like hell I was, he’s old enough to-”

_“He’s still a child-”_

“If you think he needs looking after, why don’t you talk to him?”

“Because I _can’t-”_

The sound of sheets rustling in the next room startles him back into reality. Merlin raises an eyebrow. Eggsy coughs- he’s awake, he wants attention.

“Not a word,” Harry says, darkly, before turning and getting the _hell out of there._

o0O0o

“I’m sending him on vacation,” Merlin says, handing Harry a file. “And I want you to go, too.”

“Where?”

“Paris.” Merlin shrugs. “At the least, he might appreciate the food.”

“I mean me,” Harry clarifies.

“Paris,” Merlin repeats. “You’re going with him.”

“You didn’t tell him,” Harry says, voice low.

“I didn’t tell him,” Merlin agrees. “This is your business, Harry.”

Harry opens the file and reads. It’s got everything from the serial numbers of every tracking device on Eggry’s clothes to the brand of shampoo stowed away in his bag. Harry sighs and shuts the folder, opens his mouth to speak-

“This is not up for discussion,” Merlin says, cutting him off before he begins. “Lancelot and the new recruits can handle anything else that comes up. And if there’s an emergency, I’ll let you know.”

“Merlin,” he says, shaking his head weakly. “You don’t understand, I can’t-”

“I understand that that boy is going to _kill himself_ without you, whether he knows it or not,” Merlin thunders. “He’s a mess, Harry, a complete wreck. He’s probably found some way to blame himself for what happened to you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if all this _shit_ he’s been doing to himself is some fucked up way to pay for it.”

“But I-”

 _“This isn’t about you, Harry!”_ Merlin slams a hand down onto the cheap countertop by the sink. It’s been cleaned, of course it has. If he has to stay in an old rundown safe-house, Harry Hart will do everything in his power to make it as livable as possible.

Harry falls silent. Merlin technically outranks him, now, as he doesn’t have an official position. He suspects he’ll be up for the Arthur candidacy when that goes up for debate- Merlin’s really running the show now, and slapping the Arthur title on him would actually make things easier, but he knows Merlin wouldn’t admit that in a hundred hears- but Merlin’s the one with the title, now.

“This,” Merlin says, patience clearly thinning, “is about him. You have _got_ to do something. I don’t care how you do it, but you _have_ to tell him.”

Harry rubs his thumb over the file.

“I want my suit,” he says, thoughtfully. “And my umbrella,” he adds, setting the file on the counter.

Merlin sighs.

o0O0o

Eggsy runs. Just as Harry knew he would.

Paris is crowded- it’s spring, so the place is blooming with tourists- and he tails Eggsy easily. Stands a few places behind him in line and pays for a train ticket to Madrid.

He watches Eggsy slip into a compartment and waits three minutes before following.

This is it, he thinks. In a way, it’s the best situation. They’re in an enclosed space, Eggsy can’t run away. And, well. Neither can he. They’ll have to talk. Eggsy will be angry, of course he will. He might not forgive Harry.

 _“Go on,”_ Merlin coaxes, in the gentlest voice he’s used a long time. Harry thinks he remembers it back when the old Lancelot had died- had died on Harry’s mistake. And now, he thinks, what if this is a mistake, too? What if he’s just making this worse, what if Eggsy doesn’t want to see him, what if he’s cocked it up from the very beginning when he asked Merlin- _selfish, so damn selfish-_ not to tell Eggsy in the first place?

 _“Harry,”_ Merlin insists.

He inhales, exhales.

Knocks on the door.

“Taken,”Eggsy’s voice says, and his heart skips a beat. Yes, he’s heard Eggsy’s voice through the comms for weeks, but he hasn’t heard it this _close_ in _so long._ He steels himself and slides the door open.

And there’s Eggsy. Sitting on the side of the compartment, head buried in a book. Harry stands in the doorway to the compartment and waits.

 _“Taken,”_ Eggsy repeats, gruffly. “That means get out.”

For a moment, Harry almost does.

 _“Don’t you dare,”_ Merlin’s voice says in his ear.

He sits. Eggsy will have to put the book down sometime, and when he does, they’ll talk. Until then… well, until then, Harry doesn’t have to do anything. He’ll wait. He’s waited this long.

 _“You’ve got to be kidding me,”_ Merlin groans.

In the end, it’s the umbrella that mucks everything up. When Eggsy sees it, his body goes stiff and alert, and Harry knows he’s fucked. For a moment he almost thinks that Eggsy recognizes it as Harry’s- because most of the other agents don’t care for the umbrella when the suit’s mostly bullet proof anyway and who the fuck even carries an umbrella anymore-

But Eggsy stands up and turns to the door.

Panicked, now, Harry stands and takes a step towards him.

“Gotta use the loo,” Eggsy says, brushing away, and Harry takes two steps forward and almost, _almost_ catches Eggsy’s eye-

And Eggsy runs.

Harry doesn’t bother running after him. He falls back to the compartment seat, feels the train jolt, and imagines Eggsy leaping out like a flying squirrel to freedom. He smiles.

o0O0o

Harry rides the next train back to Paris that night, because Eggsy will come back. He knows it.

He brings back the bag and folds over the corner of the page Eggsy last read in his little book, smiling fondly. He’d never seen Eggsy as much of a book person, but now he sees he was wrong. Eggsy might not be the _Paradise Lost_ type, but he’s certainly not beneath the likes of _Divergent_ and _Vampire Diaries_ and whatever other nonsense the media’s throwing at children these days.

He doesn’t take the bag into the bed when he finally decides to sleep.

He doesn’t close his eyes imagining Eggsy by his side- Eggsy, safe and out of trouble and never leaving his sight ever again- with his wrists wrapped up in the straps so tight they’re going to leave marks by the morning.

And he doesn’t dream of Eggsy, rushing up to meet him, tears soaking his suit jacket, the words _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry_ echoing even after he wakes.

o0O0o

 _“He’s on his way back,”_ Merlin says, and it’s the first time Harry’s heard his voice since the train. _“I wasn’t going to tell you, but I thought you’d like to get dressed.”_

He groans and rolls out of bed- he has to shake his wrist out a few times before it escapes from the straps.

“How long?” he croaks, getting to his feet.

_“Five minutes.”_

Harry swears.

He’s almost done with his tie when the foosteps come. They aren’t thundering, per se, but they’re a hell of a lot faster than anything that could be described as a slow jaunt. Harry fumbles with his tie, his jacket’s still on the bed and his umbrella’s leaned up by his feet, and god damn it why didn’t Merlin give him any more _time-_

“All right, you,” Eggsy calls, from somewhere Harry can’t see. He holds his breath. “You’ve got thir’y seconds before I bust in here, an’ I want you gone, all right? An’ tell Merlin to stuff that umbrella up his arse or I’ll do it for ‘im.”

In his ear, Merlin chokes out a laugh.

“An’ if I see you again because you don’t got the balls to do it, then I’ll _make sure_ you don’t got the balls to do it, _ever again._ You got that?”

 _“Harry, don’t you dare,”_ Merlin warns.

Harry doesn’t move, fingers still tangled in his tie.

_“Harry-”_

“I’m counting,” Eggsy says, and Harry _runs._

o0O0o

 _“Harry, I’m not kidding,”_ Merlin growls, as Harry heaves himself off the dumpster and tears around the corner. He can just hear the sound of Eggsy cursing to himself, which means he’s gotten away.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

_“Harry-”_

“I’m not going to do this.” He shakes his head. “I’m not. I can’t-”

 _”You could have taken that train down to Madrid and disappeared off the grid, but you didn’t,”_ Merlin says, and he slumps against a wall. _“This is for your sake as much as his.”_

“Two days ago you said this wasn’t about me,” Harry points out.

_“Because you needed to get off your arse.”_

“Merlin, you don’t understand.” Harry shakes his head.

_“What don’t I understand? Because if you try to tell me you don’t want to see him, I swear I’ll-”_

“Of course I want to see him.” Harry runs his hands through his hair, tiredly. “But he… won’t want the same.”

 _“He is_ falling apart _without you.”_

“Exactly.” Harry shakes his head. “And how will he feel when he finds out that’s my fault? That I made him wait this long, that-” He balls his hand into a fist. “He won’t forgive me.”

He’s afraid.

He’s disarmed bombs and saved hostages and careened out of windows and watched people’s heads explode not a foot from his face and he’s _afraid._

 _“Harry.”_ Merlin’s voice, cracked though it is over the comms, carries a weight now that it hadn’t before. It’s pity. Harry hates it. _“You need to think of what’s best for him.”_

“I _am,”_ he bites. “Everything I’ve done since I had to haul his arse out of jail, it’s been for him, do you not _understand that?”_

_“I understand how you’re feeling-”_

Harry tears the glasses off- the glasses that don’t quite fit on his face, not with the eyepatch, but he needs a screen for his good eye and he’s damned if he’s wearing a _monocle-_ and snaps them in half.

o0O0o

_There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self._

Is he, though? Is he any better than the Galahad that had missed the grenade and cost a fellow agent’s life? Is he any better than the Galahad that had slaughtered a church full of innocent people?

He’s not _Galahad_ anymore, that’s for sure. That title belongs to Eggsy, now, and Harry couldn’t be prouder. Eggsy is noble, he knows that. Eggsy’s come a long way from running away from his problems and getting into trouble. Now, for instance, he’s-

Running away from his problems. And, when Merlin catches up to him, getting in a _shitload_ of trouble.

Still. He’s grown so much.

Yes, Harry thinks, Eggsy is noble. Nobler than he is, he thinks to himself as he follows Eggsy around Paris like the coward he is.  

Somehow it’s easier to follow Eggsy without Merlin nagging him every ten seconds. It takes him no time at all to spot Eggsy, which is worrying. Eggsy’s not just sloppy, he realizes. Eggsy just doesn’t care. He’d spoken his bit, and now he clearly expected Merlin- and by extension, Harry- to leave him alone.

He follows Eggsy to the Eiffel tower. Stands on the other side of the elevator car as it travels up, keeps his umbrella out of sight. Watches as Eggsy looks out over the city. As Eggsy blinks and tears fill his eyes and looks over the rim-

And he understands.

He understand that Stasis right now will most certainly end in Death. Just as every good story should indicate. Stasis will end with Eggsy dead from the lack of care, lack of _anything worth caring about,_ and Harry dead from losing the person he knows now he must protect with everything he has.

He can’t stand to the side and watch Eggsy deteriorate, he can’t. It’s no longer an option. It’s going to hurt like hell and he might lose the little of Eggsy he has now, but he doesn’t have another choice.

He steps forward.

“I’m too tired to fight. I just want to be left _alone.”_

“Jesus, what fucking part of that don’t you understand? I don’t care whatever the hell you want, go fuck off, I don’t care-”

“Just _leave me the fuck-”_

“Alone?” Harry supplies, and Eggsy’s face goes slack. “I believe you’ve been _alone_ for far too long.”

And then he's filled to the brim with the smell of Eggsy and the feel of arms wrapped tight, _so tight_ around his waist and the taste of the night air that isn’t quite as cold anymore and the sound of _oh god oh god it’s you it’s you thank you_ thank you and the sight of nothing but the insides of his eyelids as he holds Eggsy tight, tighter still, until the boy's pulling away and he thinks  _please no not when I've just gotten you back_ and Eggsy looks at him with those eyes of his and-

And he smiles.

o0O0o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand I think that's it, no fallout from me, sorry T.T  
> (though you're definitely welcome to imagine them making out on the top of the eiffel tower, I certainly do~)  
> thanks for reading (again, haha) and please feel free to leave a comment if you spy any typos (or if you really liked it, ha)


End file.
